


International Hide and Seek

by justahufflepuff



Series: The Celebrity AU 'verse [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, M/M, Panic Attacks, description of panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 11:56:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15339354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justahufflepuff/pseuds/justahufflepuff
Summary: Gilderoy Lockhart is nothing if not persistent. And perhaps a little jet-lagged. Maybe slightly lost. It’ll all be worth it in the end, he hopes.





	International Hide and Seek

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zimakvet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimakvet/gifts).



> Winter and I cannot, and will not, be stopped. 
> 
> THIS DOES CONTAIN DESCRIPTIONS OF A PANIC ATTACK. 
> 
> Also, all experience with and descriptions of Gil’s asexuality are based around my own personal experiences with my asexuality as well as research.

Gilderoy Lockhart has spent like the last three months becoming more intimately familiar with the international airport system than he ever thought possible. Not to say he got pulled over for anything more than the standard, “we’re not racist watch us search this white blonde boy” way, but he definitely knows several airport employees on a first name basis now. Carry-on only travel has ousted curling his already curly hair as his favorite art form. He has the pre-flight safety instructions memorized in two different languages. Now he has vivid and vocal opinions on certain airports. It’s starting to feel just a little ridiculous.

 

This is the problem inherent with using international hide and seek as a flirting method, he supposes. But he had started this game, and with a chance to spend more time with Regulus on the line he isn’t about to let himself lose.

 

So far he’s missed Regulus in London, Glasgow, Stockholm, and Madrid. Either Regulus’s new film has a crazy budget, he’s already on a press junket, or he’s being toyed with. Honestly he ought to care more about that last possibility than he does. After all, Gil’s spent most of his romantic history toying with the hearts of others. Turnabout’s fair play and all that jazz.

 

This time though, he’s almost certain they’re going to be in the same city this time.

 

Oh lord he hopes they’re in the same city. He can’t speak German to save his soul and Berlin is huge.

 

He stares at Regulus’s latest Instagram post and then at his printed research. The “I’m perpetually ‘it’ in an international game of tag with the boy I’m trying to woo” story did not quite go over as well at Customs this time around. He’s pretty sure they’ve put him on some sort of watchlist. The people in Stockholm had just laughed. Germany was officially the most stressful country he’s ever been to.

 

Emmeline had forced him to memorize three German phrases (Excuse me, do you speak English? French?, Please help me I’m terribly lost, and, I’m sorry I don’t understand German) before she let him leave, and he’d wasted most of his flight mumbling them under his breath. In the press of the arrivals area, he tries one on what he sorely hopes is an airport employee.

 

“Entschuldigen Sie sprechen Sie Englisch? Französisch?” His pronunciation is horrible and the woman in front of him winces. Honestly, Gil can’t blame her.

 

“I speak English.” She says.

 

Gilderoy very strongly considers hugging her and never letting go. “Oh thank god, I don’t have to butcher more German.”

 

She gives him a sympathetic smile and he gets the feeling she deals with this quite a bit. “How can I help you?”

 

“Now that’s actually a bit of a funny story.” Gilderoy says his smile disarming with just the right touch of self-depreciation, and he’s off.

 

Ten minutes later and he’s got the woman’s number with a promise to help him find ‘that handsome celebrity of his’ once she’s off work, and he’s tucked away safe and sound in a cab ride to his hotel.

 

The cab bundles along and Gilderoy does what he always does these days, and pulls up Instagram.

 

gildedgilderoy: I’ll have you know my German is atrocious and I’m relatively sure that TSA thinks I’m some kind of international hooker

 

Regulus doesn’t actually respond to that, but Gil doesn’t blame him. It’s not like he’s sure what to make of it either. 

 

Since it’s fuck all o’clock stateside and he’d rather not get murdered by the few friends he actually has, Gil pulls up Twitter.

 

@itsreallygilderoy apparently ‘I’m here in hopes of flirting with a man in a nightclub’ is not a common reason for entering Germany

 

Now that his giant ‘find me!’ sign has gone up in flashing neon, Gilderoy unfolds his paper map and tries desperately to follow their route along the page. It doesn’t do much in the way of helping him gain his bearings, but it does make him feel marginally better. Emm had him print out walking directions to everywhere he thought he might want to go in advance and he scans the map for slightly more familiar words as they drive. He circles a few as they pass and does his best to commit them to memory. At least in Madrid things had almost looked like French. Here, not so much. He’s flying by the seat of his pants and hoping his charm and smile act as social grease, for the most part.

 

By the time he’s safely ensconced in his hotel room,its mid-afternoon and he’s given up all hopes of finding the pretentious nightclub from Regulus’s post tonight. He texts the wonderfully helpful lady from the airport, checks for answers from Regulus, and then falls into a light coma.

 

The next night, the next night Gil’s determined. Regulus hasn’t posted anything new but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s still in Berlin or returning to the nightclub. Regardless it’s the only lead Gil has, so he takes it and runs.

 

Dorothee, the woman from the airport, stares at his pile of clothes dubiously.

 

“You do own things in colors?”

 

“All the reviews said I should wear black.” Gilderoy sounds a bit doubtful as he scans the pile of clothes that, admittedly, do make him seem like a beatnik. A very slutty beatnik, but a beatnik nonetheless.

 

She hums clearly unconvinced before selecting a few items and tossing them his way. “These.”

 

They play dress up for a good while. Gilderoy never asks Dorothee to turn around as he changes and Dorothee never offers. She’s not who he came here for but she’s gorgeous and helping him. Light stripping never hurt a cause. 

 

Once Dorothee finally gives her superior German fashion sense stamp of approval, Gil convinces her to take several photos of him as they walk to the Metro. The first he sends directly to Regulus with the caption, ‘so you know who to look for tonight ;)’ and the second he posts to his general feed along with a photo of Dorothee laughing and trying to hide her face.

 

gildedgilderoy: I hope the German nightlife is ready for me. I come pre-approved. @doro.hahn did a good job, non?

 

Dorothee rags on him about his horrible accent and pronunciation the whole way there, certain it will get them both rejected from Berghain without him even opening his mouth. While he’s not quite sure how that would even work, he’s equally afraid of getting this close to possibly seeing Regulus again and then having the opportunity ripped out from underneath him that he listens to all her advice as best he can.

 

It doesn’t do a terrible amount to help, he’ll likely embarrass himself terribly, but Gil had accepted that bruise on his ego when he booked the ticket.

 

The notification buzz from his pocket sets his heart racing.

 

regulusarctrucus: if you’re going to look like that, I suppose I ought to up my game.

 

He’ll be there.

 

Gilderoy’s joy could set the world on fire.

 

They did end up getting in toBerghain, but it feels like a near thing. The two groups in front of them had gotten bounced for no discernible reason, and he’s pretty sure they were at least locals. Apparently something about him made the cut.

 

The place looks as pricey and bougey as the internet promised, but Gil’s eyes search the crowd and not the liquor cabinets. What if Regulus has already left, and their horrible timing has reached cosmic levels? Oh lord, what if he got the wrong nightclub? Just as panic has begun to crawl it’s ugly way up his throat, Doro speaks into his ear.

 

“Oh, he really is much better looking in person isn’t he? The cameras don’t give him credit!”

 

He twists to follow her gaze and finds Regulus immediately.

 

Their eyes don’t meet across the crowd and he’s relatively sure that Regulus can’t even see him from this angle, but the effect he has on Gilderoy monumental nonetheless. Regulus looks like he just tumbled out of hell or possibly an orgy, and Gilderoy has never in his life understood the appeal of sex but suddenly he very much gets it. It’s like there’s a hook right behind his navel and lightening down his spine, and he can’t breathe.

 

“Bathroom.” He gasps urgently, and Doro looks concerned but leads him there anyways, one hand on the small of his back.

 

He’s unsure what startles him more: the onset of what he’s fairly certain is a panic attack, or the fact he’s got an erection he actually cares about taking care of for the first time in his life. Perhaps the second directly influences the first because once he fully notices it, he starts having trouble breathing.

 

This doesn’t happen to him. Not the panic attacks, not this brand of attraction. He’s already gone through the ‘there’s something wrong with me’ stage of asexuality. He’s dealt with the demon of feeling out of place and read every article on AVEN. He knows that this is normal, that is possible to be asexual and still occasionally feel sexual attraction, but it’s never happened to him. Though, in his sexuality’s defense, he’s never been faced with Regulus Black in a very loose definition of clothing before. Other people might not find it appealing but apparently he’s not one of them.

 

Distantly he can hear Doro clearing the bathroom and thinks that he may have to buy her drinks for the rest of his natural life. She’s talking to him and he can’t make out the words. All he can hear is the sound of his own pulse sounding in his ears like a barrage of bullets. His legs feel like he’s run a mile and then dunked them in acid. Everything’s out of focus and Gilderoy has to squeeze his eyes shut and force himself to breathe through his nose.

 

He can deal with wanting to have sex with someone. He can deal with wanting to have sex with Regulus Black. In fact, he’s pretty certain if he asks Regulus would say yes. What he can’t deal with is only having sex with Regulus Black. Gilderoy has the sneaking suspicion that he wants much than that from the glamorous boy who’s never seen Disney movies and always laughs like it’s a surprise. He wants to get to know him, actually know him, and hold his hands and take him on dates, and probably a great deal of other fairly embarrassing things in addition to seeing him naked.

 

So he can deal with this. He can absolutely deal with the sight of Regulus Black in barely anything at all, for the off-chance it could maybe lead to something more. And if it doesn’t, at least he’ll have one hell of a story. Until then he can compartmentalize. He’s excellent at compartmentalizing.

 

“You really are much better looking in person.”

 

Gilderoy’s head snaps up. His body feels like he’s put it through the ringer and he’s exhausted, but he knows that voice. “Funny,” he says to Regulus, “I could say the same about you.”

 

Neither of them mention the fact Gilderoy is sitting curled up in the corner of the bathroom.

 

“Did you know this bathroom now has a viciously polite bouncer? I think I’m the only one who actually got through.”

 

Doro. Affection wells in his heart. Gilderoy may have to marry that woman.

 

“She is distressingly efficient, isn’t she?” Gilderoy agrees as he stands up and brushes himself off. 

 

“Where on earth did you find her?” Regulus’s eyes trace his outfit approvingly and Gilderoy can’t exactly help the way it makes him stand up a bit straighter. At least the panic attack killed his hard-on or his whole compartmentalizing plan would’ve gone to shit.

 

“Berlin Airport, actually. She’s the only reason I got here in one piece, if I’m honest.”

 

“You’ve found yourself a pimp then?” He asks, glib.

 

So he had seen that.

 

Gilderoy throws his head back and laughs, and laughs, and laughs. “No, no not quite. Say, do you speak German?”

 

Regulus grins. 


End file.
